The Nephew Job Interlude #1
Disclaimer: I don't own Leverage or Electric Company or the respective actors/writers/what-have-yous. I don't even own the title. I own Elizabeth Ann Hinckley and Eliot's backstory, so don't take. Please don't sue. Be kind, rewind. Thanks :)
Warnings: Mentions of child abuse (nothing too specific), OC
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“Keep your left up. Okay, let’s do this again; from the top. Left, right, block, right kick, overhead block. Again. Again. Keep your left up, Davy.”
David flopped onto the hay, pushing back his stringy, sweat-soaked hair. He rolled onto his back, forcing out a ‘whoosh’ of air. “Sissy!” He was not whining; he never whined in his life. Anyone who said any differently was a bald-faced liar. “We’ve been training for hours. I need a break.”
Elizabeth frowned as she ran the hose through her straw-colored hair. It was a particularly sticky summer day-a day perfect for lazing about. But, she was a girl on a mission. She was sixteen; David just nine. She only had a few years until she was able to move out--get away from Him. She wasn’t going to leave her baby brother alone with Him without some protection.
She rolled her left shoulder, wincing at twinge of pain. The bruises were healing, but not fast enough. She barely got any sleep all week, because Momma was barely home half the time, leaving Elizabeth looking after David and avoiding Him. She sighed, closing her eyes and enjoying the lukewarm, faintly metallic water.
A tug on her cut-off jeans had her looking down into her baby brother's blue eyes. She tried her best to smile. She loved him so much. He was so innocent. So carefree. Every hit she took was a hit he didn’t have to, and it was well worth it. “Let’s do takedowns next.”
David bounced around excitedly. Takedowns were his favorite part of fighting. He squared up and jumped on Elizabeth with a shout. With a high-pitched shriek, she pretended to faint and struggle under the onslaught of tiny fingers digging into hurting ribs.
“David Eliot Fulton; you are incorrigible.”
“What does that mean?”
“Never you mind. Now, straighten up. Left, right, block, uppercut, left kick, overhead block, leg sweep…”
* * *
* * *
“Fighting is 75% mental and 25% physical. It’s all about control. The goal in a formal fight is to be the first to break the other’s control. But, if you know yourself, really know yourself, you win even when you’re losing.”
David scrunched his nose. “But you’re still losing.”
Elizabeth grinned at that, shaking her head. “Not ‘zactly. Y’see, your control is within; it’s your heart; it’s you. The only way you lose is if you let them take that ‘way from you. Always be in control, Davy. Always.”
* * *
* * *
“Why are we in the kitchen? I thought you were gonna teach me some cool moves?”
“Not everything revolves around self-defense, Davy-“
“Don’t call me, Davy! That’s a baby’s nickname!”
Elizabeth smiled indulgently as she chopped up a few sun-ripened tomatoes. “Fine. Mr. David Fulton, Jr., sir, if you could hand me that green pepper?” She laughed at the serious look on his face. “What are you thinkin’ about, Davy?”
“Why do we have different last names?”
Elizabeth set down the knife and knelt so she was looking face-to-face with David. She brushed a stray lock of curly hair back from his forehead and tucked it behind his ear. She had never lied to him before, and she wasn’t going to start now, even though it was going to hurt. “Momma was married ‘fore your daddy. My daddy’s Richard Spencer and I kept his name after he died.” She grabbed his shoulders. “Listen, just ‘cause we have different daddies don’t mean nothing. You’re my baby brother; always will be. Y’hear?”
“I hear.” Elizabeth went back to chopping. “Hey, Sissy? Um, Iloveyou.”
“I love you, too. Now, lemme show you how to cut through an onion.”
* * *
* * *
“I can’t fight her! She’s a girl!” The little tow-headed girl with a smudgy face, Aimee Martin as she introduced herself confidently, stuck her tongue out at him. David responded by crossing his eyes.
Elizabeth shook her head, covering her mouth. “But, Davy, I’m a girl, too.”
He looked up at her, eyes squinty in the dying sun. “You’re not a girl; you’re my sister!” he declared.
“Aimee?”
“Yes’m?”
“Hit him. Hard.”
“Ow! That ain’t fair!”
* * *
* * *
“David! What are you doin’ home so early? Did football practice go well?”
“He hit you. He always hits you, doesn’t he? That’s why...that’s why… How long has this been happenin’?”
“David-“
“Don’t call me that name…ever. C’mon, we need to get you to the hospital.”
“No, no. ‘m fine, I promise. It’s not that bad. ‘M fine!”
“I’m going to kill him.”
* * *
* * *
“Thank you, for letting us come over, Willie. I know it’s short notice and all, but I-“
“It’s okay, Bess. Come on in. Y’all look like death warmed over. Didja walk all the way over here barefoot?”
Elizabeth sat David in front of the roaring fire, wrapping him up a blanket and accepting the towel a silent Aimee numbly handed her. She painstakingly toweled down David’s longish hair and then roughly wiped at her own wet limbs. “Are you okay, sweetheart?”
“Wh-what a-about ya-you?” David’s teeth chattered horrendously, but he put on a brave face.
“I’m fine…I will be fine.” She most certainly wasn’t fine. The cut above her eye oozed slowly down her face, matting and staining her hair. The bruise on her right cheek covered half her face. She was limping and her movements were slow, but it wasn’t as if she hadn’t dealt with it before. They were safe; that’s all that mattered.
And, He wouldn’t be coming after them for a long time.
They were safe. The Martins were their friends. They were trustworthy. As Willie shouted for a first aid kit, Elizabeth fainted.
* * *
* * *
“Mr. Martin, can I talk to you in private?”
“Sure, Bess, anything you want.”
“…Tommy proposed to me today.”
“Why that’s wonderf-”
“I’m movin’ to Louisiana. I need you to look after Eliot for me, alright? I just-I know-I can’t. I-I mean-”
“I could always use another stable boy ‘round these parts, I suppose.”
“Oh, thank you, thank you. I owe you-“
“Nonsense. Me and Charlotte will care for that boy like he was our own. Now, stop your cryin’; a pretty bride-to-be shouldn’t be cryin’. C’mon, let me put the kettle on.”
Elizabeth wiped her eyes on her sleeve and gave him a watery smile. “Oh, Mr. Martin.” He stopped and turned around. She fiddled with her shirt. “I was, um, wondering if…well, if you could…walk me down the aisle?”
"I'd be honored."
* * *
* * *
He grabs the phone with trembling fingers and a suspicious lump in his throat. He punches in the number scrawled onto a worn scrap of paper and listens to the dial tone until the ringing picks up. He has to physically stop himself from crushing the phone when he hears the plastic squeak.
“Hello, Hinckley residence.”
“B-Bess?”
“David?” The voice on the other line is shocked. “Is everythin’ all right? Have you been eatin’?”
He can’t help it; he starts laughing. No matter how long they had been apart, she’s still the same kind, considerate big sis. He brushes away the few tears and clears his throat. “’M fine, goin’ by Eliot now. How’s everything? How’s Matt?” He can’t remember his nephew’s age, and he’s not sure if he got the name right.
“Matt’s fine. I think he takes after his uncle. Matthew, quit chasing the cat and come say ‘hello’ to your Uncle El.”
“’Lo Uncle El!” Eliot is not sure he likes that nickname, but when his nephew says it, he has to wipe his eyes with his sleeve.
“Hey, little buddy. How old are ya this year?”
“’M five and a half! Hey, where’s my birfday presents?” Eliot laughs at Bess’s scolding.
“I’ll get ‘em to you, I promise. Hey, uh, can you give the phone back to yer momma?”
“Okay, Uncle El! Oh, um, it was very nice to talk to you. Momma says I haveta say that or I don’t get any cookies after suppa,” Matt hisses conspiratorially at the end. “Bye!”
“Sorry about Matt, Da…Eliot.” Bess apologizes as Matt screams that he’s Superman in the background. “He’s excited about not going to school today-Chicken Pox.”
Eliot feels such a rush of protectiveness it leaves him breathless. “Everything’s fine, right?”
“Oh yes. I took off of work today, and the redness is slowly but surely disappearing. You sound kinda strange; is everything all right on your end?”
“I’m…” And, he can’t lie to her. “I’m thinking about enlisting in the Army.” There is silence. “I really can’t get a job out here, and the Martins can’t support me the rest of my life. And, it’s a great-“
“Stop right there. Now, I’ve supported you in all that you do, but I’m not goin’ stand while you go off to war! It’s dangerous; you could get killed! For chrissakes, you’re only seventeen, David!”
“Not on my papers,” he blurts out, suddenly frustrated.
Her voice is a tight, stricken whisper. “What did you do?”
“Does it matter? I have a whole new identity now-Eliot Spencer. I'm legal to serve." He is interrupted by her sharp intake of breath. “It’s just…I can’t live here anymore. I need to get away. You of all people should know what that’s like. No, wait, I didn’t me-” He cringes at the loud clang in his ears and slowly hangs the phone up. He scrubs a hand over his face; it’s too late to take back his words now.
“Private! Move yo’ ass!”
Eliot grabs his canvas bag and heaves it over his shoulder, over his fresh crew cut. “Sir, yes, sir.”
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Unofficial Poll: Did you enjoy this interlude? Should I include more? Oh, and should I include dates (like years) to clear everything up a bit?